A Mere Centimeter and a World Apart
by terracannon876
Summary: When six-year-old Alfred took a dare to explore a haunted mansion, he hadn't expected to find a magic mirror that was a window to another world. He hadn't expected to meet a lonely magician who would come to be his best friend and more. AlfredxArthur, AU
1. Taking the Dare

I lied. This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but then they grew, as all my stories grew. Now it's a multi-chapter fic, longer than even the _Natsume Yuujinchou_ fic's prospective length.

There were a variety of inspirations for this fic. First and foremost is the Vocaloid song, by HitoshizukuP and Yama(delta), "Mahou no Kagami" - The Magic Mirror. After that, there are scenes taken from the manga _Hotarubi no Mori_ by Midorikawa Yui, and quotes taken from _Piece_ by Ashihara Hinako.

I'd like to thank my friends bonafide and moos for their constant support and feedback on this fic, despite not knowing the fandom!

Hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

There were many things an eight year old was scared of – heights, the dark, spiders, sharks... Alfred Jones was proud to say that he was afraid of none of those things. He loved heights, even wanted to fly a plane someday, soar among the clouds in a fighter jet. There was nothing in the dark that could scare him because he was Alfred-freaking-Jones (his twin Matthew said this wasn't a good enough reason, but Mattie was Mattie, which meant he was not Alfred, and thus he was afraid of the dark). Spiders hardly posed a problem, and he'd never actually seen a real life shark before in his life, so he hadn't decided whether he was scared of them yet (movies didn't count since everything looked scary on a big screen).

There was, however, one thing that Alfred was afraid of.

"Why are we doing this again, Mattie?" Alfred whimpered, his voice shuddering and glasses clattering as he trembled from head to toe. Nevertheless, he had to remain strong for his brother, who was probably even more scared than he was and clutching his sleeve like a lifeline. In one hand he held a Little League bat; in another, a flashlight Neither would prove to be much protection where they were going, though. "**Why** are we heading into a haunted house, **the** haunted house, at midnight on a full moon?"

Matthew drew the stuffed polar bear he'd brought with him for comfort closer to his chest. He didn't have a weapon of his own, but with Alfred around, there was no need. "Because," he said in a weak voice, "you had to take Gil's dare."

Alfred grit his teeth just at the sound of that name. Gilbert was an arrogant bully who had pushed Mattie down during recess and had the gall to say Alfred wasn't a good enough hero for him. Alfred hadn't really thought about what he was getting himself into, but he knew that he had to fight for his beliefs.

Unfortunately, Gilbert had known exactly what Alfred's fear was – ghosts.

The night had only just ticked past eleven, and the night blanket overhead was splashed with stars. The moon, hazy from the cloudy nest surrounding it, outshone the feeble illumination provided by the flashlight, making Alfred wonder if it was even worth using. The goose bumps on the boy's arm were only partially from the chilly wind howling through the bare fingers of the naked trees, grasping like hungry monsters emerging from the ground.

In a corner of Alfred's mind, he remembered that Halloween was next week. He shoved the frightening through from his head immediately.

The first step onto the porch proved that the house was sturdier than it looked – nothing collapsed despite the wood's rotten appearance and the crooked pillars. Alfred set his hand on the handle, but he startled back when the wind wrenched it from his grasp and slammed the door into the wall. He felt Matthew behind him wince at the echoing bang. The both of them paused, looking left and right with swiveling flashlight, to make sure they hadn't awakened some restless spirit.

"Alf," Matthew whispered hesitatingly, "we're in. We did the dare. We don't have to go any further."

Despite his bravado, Alfred gulped. "No, we have to go in further. I'm not Gilbert beat me."

He ignored his brother's muttered "But he'd never know…" and entered the haunted mansion.

Each step gave rise to a small mushroom cloud of dust and neglect. The air was heavy, laden with particles that weighed down each breath, and slowly both Alfred and Matthew were gasping for air. Upwards, Alfred shone his light, and he saw that there were old candleholders down each side of the hall, lamps strung with spider webs like Christmas lights and candelabras dusted with cobweb handkerchiefs. Doors leading to what looked like dark abysses lined down the hall, and Alfred rushed by without looking in, dragging Matthew behind him.

The pair slowly made their way down the hall, one cautious step at a time, but by the time they had made it to one end and back, there was nary a movement in the entire building other than themselves. Matthew heaved a sigh. "That … was really scary." He dug his fingers into Bear's soft fur and buried his nose in its ear.

Alfred scoffed. "Really? There's nothing scary about that place. It was just a pile of dust and old wood. I could've taken it on myself."

His brother gave him that skeptical look he had come to associate with that time he'd told him little gray men existed. Alfred didn't know why. He'd seen it on the History channel, and everything that thing says is real. "You were the one pissing his pants at the mere mention of ghosts – see? You did it again!"

"I can't help it! It doesn't matter how cool or awesome heroes are. You can't hit something that's not there!" There was still the possibility of ghosts around – you never knew – so Alfred yelled back in a stage whisper. "You should be scared too! They could be anywhere…"

Matthew rolled his eyes, tension completely gone now that he knew that there was nothing alive in the mansion except for them, the cockroaches, and the mold. "Come on, let's go find some proof to bring back to Gilbert so he can't say we're lying."

Alfred nodded, because it was always his brother who thought these things through and it was always better to go along than to question him. He trailed behind, one hand still tightly wrapped around his bat, as his twin weaved in and out through the many rooms.

"Weird," Matthew said after their tenth room, "there's nothing here."

"That's because it's an **abandoned** mansion?"

"Yeah, but in movies there's always something, like a bookshelf, left over…"

"Maybe it's on the second floor?"

Together, their gazes shifted to the staircase behind them. It really was like an old movie set, with the stairs circling against the belly of the mansion, rising to the second floor. There was even the elaborate crystal (albeit grey and dusty) chandelier hanging from the center of the room. The brothers made a point to avoid the center of the hall, just in case the clasp holding the thing up decided to crack right when they were under it.

The climb up to the second floor was uneventful, but each creak set the two on edge as they half-expected the structure to crumble under their feet any moment. "I'm not sure this is a good idea…" mumbled the lighter-haired twin.

Alfred rolled his eyes, but even he heaved a sigh of relief when they had finally reached the last step. "Come on, there's got to be something here."

Again, they repeated what they'd done below, but this time, they were rewarded.

"Here!" waved Matthew, "Come look!"

Alfred jogged over to his brother's side in the doorway … and promptly halted in his tracks.

There, standing before him, was a mirror. Really, it was just a simple mirror, but what had caught his eyes first was how it gleamed under his flashlight. It was clean, without a speck of dust even on the frame. The edges were adorned with red and green stones, like those he'd seen in his mother's jewelry box, and by them were smaller ones, white and blue in color. All of them were arranged in a flowery pattern that trailed down, twisting round and round in fat, lazy curls.

He'd never seen something so beautiful in his whole life.

Matthew was standing by it, inspecting it. "I don't think this'll work… It's got nothing I can chip off." He put his hand onto the reflective surface…

…and promptly hissed when Alfred grabbed his wrist very, very tightly. "What's your problem?" he spat.

Alfred jumped, realizing what he'd just done, and backed away. "Sorry. It's just … it doesn't look like you should touch it. It's almost a waste to get fingerprints on it."

His brother stared at him for a moment, but with such a blank expression Alfred had no idea what he was thinking (he hated it when he did that). After a moment, he shrugged. "Let's go somewhere else."

Alfred could only nod in agreement. He took one last peek at the mirror before he went to follow Matthew out of the room.

And then he did a double-take.

There was something in the mirror. He had seen something. It was yellow, like wheat fields, and there was green, like a newly unfurled leaf. The boy blinked, rubbed his eyes. No, it wasn't gone; in fact, the image was clearer than before.

It was a face. Of whom, Alfred couldn't say, but he was more focused on the "How?" of the image, seeing as how there was no one in front of the mirror. "A … ghost?" he breathed, and the slight sound seemed to have caught the face's attention. Its eyes focused on him.

It was scary. It was unsettling. Alfred wanted to run. But it wasn't a ghost because ghosts were pale and cold, and this face, its eyes, were vivid, alive, and seemed to see straight into him.

He shut his eyes, shook his head. He was seeing things. It was simply impossible; there was no such thing as disembodied heads that showed up in mirrors.

Indeed, when he opened them again, the image was gone, leaving only an empty mirror that reflected his flashlight's beam back onto his chest.

"A-Alfred? Alfred! Where are you?"

The person in question jumped, startled by the sudden yell reverberating through the old building. His brother must have noticed he was missing and thought he was spirited away or kidnapped by a ghost or something.

Not daring to spare the mirror another glance, he rushed out of the room and joined Matthew in what looked like a study room, complete with old bookshelves and books.


	2. Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

**Chapter 2**

The mansion was certainly less frightening during the daytime, with sunlight thrown through the curtain-less windows and the shadows that plagued a child's overactive imagination chased away by the light. However, the baseball bat from yesterday accompanied him again, clenched in one of Alfred's fists (the flashlight was pointless at this time of day, of course) as he returned.

Alfred had never been one for the supernatural. He'd always scoffed when the girls talked about fairies and unicorns, and every time his brother had mentioned what the bear had "said" to him, he had given Matthew his own patented "you've lost it" look. He didn't believe in the Lochness Monster or in Bigfoot, or even in the Boogieman. Monsters simply didn't exist.

(The aliens were an isolated incident. Besides, little gray men were far more sci-fi than fantasy, right?)

Ghosts, on the other hand, were another story. They were the dead spirits of real people, and they were immune to all that science could provide, resisting even detection.

And then there was what he saw last night, which he knew wasn't a ghost, but because he refused to categorize it as something fantastical in his mind, it hovered in his brain, invaded all his thoughts, and generally annoyed him all day until he finally gave up and decided to go back to the mansion to make sure it wasn't all a hallucination – because a hallucination would be the easiest answer, whereas a ghoul the worst.

And if it **was** a restless spirit, then Alfred would be the better man, he decided. Ghosts were ghosts because they still had something left to do in the real world, right? So if that business were finished, they'd leave. He would conquer his fear, ask the spirit what it wanted, and get it to leave.

His decision hardly wavered the entire journey to the mansion – so much less hungry-looking under the light – but just as he stepped into the room with the mirror, he felt his body seize up. His palms felt unusually sweaty, but he couldn't even move a muscle to wipe them on his pants.

Was it a spell?

But no, spells didn't exist, and look, if he concentrated enough, he could move one foot forward. And then another. And another. He was just nervous.

Before he knew it, he stood in front of the mirror. In his distraction, he noticed that its frame reached all the way to the ground, just barely grazing the wooden floorboards. Washed over with a sense of accomplishment, he brought his gaze up, slowly.

He jumped. The bat clattered to the floor as he fell onto his rear.

Standing nose to nose with him was a man. No, more precisely, the man was kneeling, one hand resting on a knee, purposely bringing him to Alfred's eye level. He was old, probably past his twenties. On his shoulders rested a mantle, gold-rimmed but otherwise a simple midnight blue. He wore some sort of costume, with buttons all down his front and gold string dangled everywhere, and he had thick cuffs, like he'd seen in old European movies, that curled back and fastened with yet another button. He had white gloves that matched his pants, over which he wore boots that managed to be both large and sleek at the same time.

In short, he looked like a foreigner to this world.

But despite the reflection's (Whose? His? A ghost's?) unusual attire, what attracted Alfred's attention first and foremost was his face.

It was the same, the one he had seen last night. The man's head was framed by wheat-yellow hair, and his eyes were a lively green that seemed to shimmer (now if that wasn't otherworldly, he didn't know what was). He hadn't noticed the previous night, probably in his panic, but his gaze naturally moved up and took in the two furry eyebrows that seemed to dominate the man's forehead.

Alfred couldn't decide if they made the reflection look silly or even scarier.

"Shut your mouth. You're not a gaping goldfish."

The boy obeyed automatically, before his brain processed the voice. It hadn't come from behind him or from himself, and it definitely wasn't in his head. He doubted he would imagine a voice that had such a weird accent, anyways. He yelped and his mouth fell just as wide open as before. "Y-you talked!"

"Yes, I talked. Why is that so surprising?" The image honestly seemed to be puzzled.

"You're a reflection, that's why! Reflections don't talk!" Alfred paused. No wait, what if… "I get it. You're a ghost, and this is the only way you can speak to the living."

"Huh? W-"

"I'll listen to what you have to say, but I won't let you take over me!"

"Wait a second…"

"Just be glad that the great hero Alfred is here to help you with your problems, so hurry up and pass to the underworld!"

"Alfred?" At this, the reflection-ghost man stood, causing the other to flinch involuntarily. "You said your name's Alfred?"

The boy gulped, but he nodded. "Y-yeah, you got a problem with that?"

After a long pause – so long that Alfred thought the ghost really was planning on possessing him because he got him mad or something – the man shook his head. "No, it's a wonderful name. Tell me, Alfred, what is your world called?"

"World?" He was sounding more and more like Mattie every minute. He tried again, "What do you mean, 'world?'"

"What it sounds like. What's your world's name, or does your world not have one?"

"W-well, if you mean 'planet,' then it's Earth…"

"'Earth…'" the man repeated.

Alfred regained a bit of his courage by this time, and said, "You're a weird ghost, you know that? You managed to forget the planet's name?"

He winced again as those green eyes glared at him. "I don't know how you came to the conclusion I'm a ghost, but I am no such thing. If what you say is true, then you are a human from a different world than me."

"Different world … like, from Mars?"

"I don't know of any 'Mars,' but I suspect it's a world you don't know of." The man knelt again, and Alfred unconsciously relaxed a little. "I'm going to ask on a hunch, but … do you know what magic is?"

Hearing this, the boy almost snorted. "There's no such thing as magic."

A sly smile, of the "I know something you don't" type, spread across the man's face. "So I was right. There is most definitely a 'thing such as magic.' It just doesn't exist in your world."

"That's just an excuse. You can't prove it to me."

"Oh? I can't?"

Alfred stared at the man. Perhaps that was one explanation for what was going on, for him speaking to a reflection that was not his? "Fine. Show me, and if you can't, I'm gonna break the mirror and call the Ghost Busters to get rid of you."

The man waved impatiently at the last part of the statement. "Come, put your hands on the mirror."

Alfred hesitated. "How do I know you're not trying to trick me?"

At this, the other sighed. "If I were going to trick you into coming closer so I could do horrible things to you, I would have just spelled you to move your feet two steps forward. Now stop being a prat and get closer."

Acknowledging that this stranger had a point, Alfred shuffled a little closer. He slowly put his palms to the mirror. "Like this?"

The man nodded, and he slid his hands forward too. Alfred couldn't help but stare at the size of them in comparison to his. He hardly ever held his father's hands; he bet this was what a grown-up's hand looked like. "Now," the man said after their hands were opposite one another. They would be touching if it weren't for the surface of the mirror, "say what you want the magic to do."

Alfred was slightly distracted by the tingly sensation coming from the chill of the glass surface. "Out loud?"

The other nodded. "Here – because I can't account for how magic works in all the different worlds – magic works by vocal commands. It represents your will to control the elements and allows the spells to know how to follow your command. I obviously know nothing of your world, so it's your words and your wishes that will determine what the spell will do." Just as Alfred was about to open his mouth, he continued, "This is just a demonstration, so please keep the task small. I don't wish to cause a fiasco in your world, accidentally."

That made sense. Alfred fell silent, trying to think of what he wanted. He was a bit hungry, since it was almost dinner time and he hadn't eaten yet, but more importantly… "I want the stupid dust in this place gone!"

Suddenly, he was blinded by a flash of light, and he heard more than felt a blast of wind rush from the mirror (how was that possible?). By the time his clothes and hair had settled, his vision had cleared, and he realized that he was staring into the other's eyes.

"What an odd wish. You looked to be the type to wish for food or toys."

Frowning, Alfred broke the gaze and the connection between their palms. "I'm eight! I'm too old for toys!"

Again, the man waved his hand. Alfred supposed that meant that he was right. "Why don't you go outside and see if your wish came true?"

He'd almost forgotten. He swerved around and ran, almost tripping over his shoelaces (when had they come undone?). He didn't even need to step into the hall, though, to see that the man was right.

The carpet was a vivid color, burgundy red and cream, that had been muted by the layers of grey stacked on it before. The delicate fixtures on the wall were free of hangings, and the walls were no longer peeling or stained.

Alfred turned around, his expression still one of shocked wonder. "Whoa," was all he could say.

"You do do a marvelous fish impression, you know. I suppose that's your talent?" But the man was smiling, his chin resting on one hand casually. He looked so satisfied with himself that Alfred let the comment slide.

The boy ran forward to the mirror again. "That was soooo cool! Can you do it again?"

The other looked taken aback. "Well, that's…"

"Oh right, I don't even know your name yet. What's your name?"

Again, the man looked troubled. "I'm… Well…"

Alfred crossed his arms. "One second you say you're a wizard, and the next you act like a ghost who's forgotten about his past. You don't remember your name?"

The man didn't reply immediately. After a few moments (where Alfred observed his pupils do that weird shifting thing when people were thinking really, really quickly), he sighed resignedly. "My name's … Arthur."

Alfred scrunched his nose up. "Arthur? That's a really stuffy name."

"Yes, I've been told that."

"Must be something that doesn't matter which world you're from." At this, Alfred realized that he was actually believing this stranger who had suddenly appeared in a mirror, but after a moment's thought, he shrugged. He'd believed stranger things, and this really wasn't that weird. "So, can you do it again?" he repeated.

Arthur shook his head. "I try to limit myself to one spell a day."

"That's too bad… So, are you a wizard?"

"Something like that." But he didn't try to elaborate, and Alfred's mind had already wandered.

"If you're from a different world, then how come you also know English?"

"I'm guessing 'English' is your world's language? I suspect it's just the nature of this spell. To me, I'm just speaking my own tongue."

"Tongue? Ew, your tongue speaks?"

"No, I mean…" Arthur said, flustered, but then he chuckled and shook his head, "You're a very exuberant boy, aren't you?"

"I don't even know what that means. That sounds like a bad thing."

"You will one day, and it's not a bad thing."

Alfred opened his mouth to ask this Arthur person another question, but then he realized that the sun's rays through the window were getting awfully long and red. "Oh crap, it's already sundown! Mom's gonna be so mad I'm late!" He turned back to the wizard beyond the mirror. "I'll be back tomorrow, and then you can show me more magic and stuff!"

As he was almost out the door, he turned and waved. "See ya!" He heard only a faint "See you soon," before he had made it out of the room, but it brought a full-blown grin to his lips that lasted all the way home.


	3. The Basis of Friendship

This chapter is really short, so another will be coming soon. By nature, though, this fic is slower updating since its chapters are longer (usually), so I will have to ask readers to be a bit patient...

...Still, thank you all for your lovely faves and alerts and reviews and everything!

(But ... psst, reviewing is still the best! 8D)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

"Arthur! Arthur!" Alfred cried as he ran into the room, "Arthur, you here?"

Indeed, the man who existed beyond a magical mirror came into view only a moment later. At first, he looked surprised, but almost immediately his expression smoothed into a smile that infected Alfred as well. "Hello, Alfred. Has it already been a day?"

The boy stuck his tongue out. "What, did you think I'd forget?"

"Perhaps."

"Well too bad!" Laughing a bit, he settled down in front of the mirror. He didn't hesitate to sit on the floor, which was now completely free of grime. Arthur followed suit.

There was a small moment of silence as neither really knew how to start the conversation. Alfred opened his mouth first. "I told my mom I made a new friend."

"You told your parent that you met a magician in a mirror?" One of those thick caterpillar eyebrows rose. "I thought magic didn't exist in your world. I suppose she didn't believe you."

Alfred shook his head. "No, she did. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

The boy raised his voice a few pitches. "'That's nice dear. It's a bit old for you to be having imaginary friends though.' I'm too old for imaginary friends! She should know that."

"It's a much more plausible explanation than magic, for your world."

"But Mattie didn't believe me either, and he's the one who thinks his stuffed bear is alive."

"Who's Mattie?"

"My brother. We're twins, but we don't really look alike. Mom says it's 'cause I'm more 'active' and like to go outside more." That was apparently why he was just a tiny bit taller and darker, both in hair and skin. "He was here day before yesterday."

"Hm, I must have just missed him. I remember seeing you, but only just a faint shadow."

"Really? I wasn't that far away." Alfred turned backwards, towards the door. The room was large, but he could definitely cross the distance in five big steps.

"Can you see what's behind me?" Arthur turned a bit to the side, presumably to allow Alfred to see behind him, but really, there was nothing to see. He'd never noticed it before, but it almost seemed like Arthur was standing in the middle of a gray cloud. Occasionally, a streak lighter than its surrounding wisps floated by, but otherwise, he could see nothing. He wondered if the other saw the same thing on his end.

He shook his head. "No, it's all grey."

"Yes, that's what I see on my end as well. I believe it's just how the mirror works."

"You've never used it before?"

"This is my first time. I may be a magician, but I have never performed such a complicated spell before."

Alfred "hmm"ed disinterestedly. "So, can you do more magic? That was really cool, yesterday."

"Why don't you tell me a bit about your world? I can't imagine how you survive without magic."

"Oh… It's nothing special…" Alfred wouldn't even know where to start. On the contrary, he couldn't imagine what it was like to live in a world **with** magic.

In the end, though, after some goading, Alfred started talking. He talked about school, how it was boring and pointless and totally not useful in the real world ("But Mattie makes me study until I know everything he does, and he's a bookworm."), which moved on to tests, and he was starting to go on about his teachers except his throat was dry and scratchy from overuse.

This was an entirely new experience to Alfred. Alfred loved talking to others, but almost no one wanted to be by him because of it. His classmates all thought he talked too much and was annoying. It didn't help that he loved comics and superheroes, and that he wanted to grow up to be one himself. Why was it a bad thing to stand up for a kid getting beat up by a girl? Girls could be bullies too, but all anyone ever saw was Alfred shoving the girl back. She promptly started crying, which confused Alfred because he hadn't pushed that hard. That had been in fourth grade, but there were lots of kids from his elementary in his middle school class, and they hadn't forgotten.

But Arthur was different. Arthur listened, he asked questions at the right time and he actually looked interested – although Alfred had no idea how anyone could be that fascinated by the idea of math class. This only strengthened his opinion of the magician (weren't those the guys who did card tricks and disappearing acts, though?), though.

Before he knew it, the day was over, and it was time for Alfred to go home. "I'll come by tomorrow, too! You'll still be here, right?"

Arthur nodded.

"See you tomorrow, Arthur!"

Alfred didn't see the jolt that appeared on the other's face when he voiced his name, but a slow smile spread over Arthur's face after the initial shock.


	4. Friendship is Reciprocal

**Chapter 4**

The next day, Alfred was back, and the day after that, and the day after that. Every day, he talked.

He talked about his family, he talked about cars, about sports, about his classmates. He skittered by the issue with his friends (or lack thereof), but Arthur seemed to detect it anyways.

"I had the same trouble when I was a child, although I will admit it had nothing to do with an unrestrained love for heroes," he had said, "The others thought I was showing them up when I helped them on their assignments. It wasn't my fault they weren't smart enough to grasp such simple concepts as alchemy."

Alfred didn't say anything about not understand anything either, but he appreciated the sentiment.

The days passed quickly, and before he knew it, one month had passed, and then another. They'd gone from talking about general stuff to Alfred's everyday happenings, and Alfred found that he was talking even more to Arthur than even to Matthew, his own brother whom he shared a bunk bed with at night (yes, still). If he did well on a test, he'd run to the mansion first thing after school and brag about his accomplishments, and Arthur would congratulate him accordingly. (Alfred had the sneaking suspicion that if he brought homework to study in front of the mirror, the man would even be his personal tutor – provided he knew the subject, that is.)

When Christmas had rolled around the corner, Alfred had run, blizzard or no, through the clean, smooth snow field that surrounded the mansion until he had arrived, gasping, at the front of the mirror. "Merry Christmas," he had said, with a cheer that only seemed to start filling him just then. He had opened his presents with enthusiasm that morning, but only now, bundled in winter gear and looking back at Arthur's wide-eyed gaze did he truly feel warm at heart. (He then had to proceed to explain what Christmas was; apparently Arthur's world didn't have anything quite like it.)

Arthur was always there, every day, no matter what time he went. One time, out of curiosity, he had skipped baseball practice to visit Arthur in the morning, and to his surprise the man was still there, fuzzy eyebrows and cape and all, when he called.

Alfred didn't question it much, though. It was like having a friend whenever he needed it, and it was kind of cool. He was glad he knew someone like Arthur; he doubted any of his other classmates knew anyone like him, someone who was smart, nice, listened to him, and, to top it off, could do magic (although he never did perform another spell after that first bout).

One day, though, a realization hit Alfred. It wasn't a big one, but it was enough that the metaphorical wind was knocked out of him. Matthew, who was sitting with him during lunchtime, even noticed a sudden stiffening in his expression and asked if he had a stomachache.

All this time, Alfred had been talking about himself – his world, his life, his dreams, his likes, his family… He didn't know a thing about Arthur. In fact, other than the fact that he was really nice and that he lived in a world with magic, the magician was practically a stranger to him. It wasn't Arthur's fault, though. Alfred had never given him the opportunity to talk.

Outside the mansion, Alfred buried his face in his hand. "I can't believe it," he muttered to himself, "I'm making the same mistakes, over and over again." The same ones he'd made during school, the reason why he could be friendly to everyone yet have no friends.

Today, he thought, he was going to fix this. It wasn't that he didn't have any curiosity about Arthur's world, because really, what could be more awesome than living in a world with magic? In fact, he had the feeling he'd asked a question or two before, but Arthur never really seemed to answer them. Was it on purpose, or did Alfred miss some cue altogether?

Arthur greeted him as always, and Alfred replied in kind. This time, the man was sitting in front of the mirror with a book, written in some curly language speckled with dots and circles, before Alfred had even turned into the room. When he plopped himself down in front of the mirror, though, the magician snapped the tome shut with a snap. "Hm, you seem down today. What is the problem? Did your idiotic classmates say something again?"

The boy shook his head. "No, that's not it. I just… I was thinking today," ("A rare event, to be sure," Arthur interrupted, but with no real venom) "and I realized something." He was hesitant to say any further.

The man waited a little, but when Alfred showed no sign of wanting to continue, he spoke up. "Well? What is it you realized?" he prompted.

Alfred took a deep breath. "We've known each other for half a year, maybe more, right?" The other nodded. "Well, I… This whole time, we've talked a lot. Actually, I did most of the talking… But that's the problem, right? I'm talking all the time, and I never asked anything about you." At the sight of Arthur opening his mouth to say something, he rushed on, "I know you don't really like it when I do, but it's still not right, you know? Friendship goes both ways. That's what Mattie always says. It's why I never do well in that department, I think…"

"You're doing damn fine in it," cut in Arthur, the first moment he could get. He sighed, as though he didn't really want to say the next words. "I'm sorry, I'm not very accommodating in that respect. I have been … avoiding certain questions, I'll admit. It's not any reflection of how good a friend you are."

Alfred gave a sigh of relief, glad to get that off his chest. "So … we're good?"

The other smiled, and nodded. "Yes, we're 'good.'"

"Well then," the boy grinned mischievously, "I have some questions for you…"


	5. The Magical World of Dragons and Bunnies

...What, did you think I would make it this easy? Never fear, though, all shall be made clear in due time.

Now, for a message that I've consistently forgot and will either drive away a few people or make a few very happy.

I've said in the summary that this fic is Alfred x Arthur, which is true. However, as the genre of the fic indicates, this isn't primarily about their romantic relationship, nor will that develop for a good long time (and when it does, I'm not sure it'll be in a form you guys'll like, but oh well). In short, if you're reading this for the slash, please be patient. If you're reading it for the fluff, have fun. Lots and lots of fun 8D

I'll also make a note here, one I made in my other fic recently. I'm writing from Alfred's POV, so there may be some important points or stuff that Alfred plain old skims over. He (or rather, I) is not a reliable narrator. (That being said, though, this fic is a lot better than my other fic in that regard...)

Enjoy! Love all your reviews!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

What could only be counted as an interrogation stretched over several days, and Alfred gave the questions as much as he had, even resorting to scribbling down ideas during class.

There were so many that the boy never really paid attention to the fact that Arthur didn't even get to a great half of them. It was only later in his years that he realized there was a certain pattern to those the man had elected to forgo, but that would be much further down the road.

At the moment, Alfred was just so glad that the man was finally talking about himself that he decided forgive him for ignoring a few queries.

Arthur's world was ruled by magic. That is to say, it wasn't really a, "Oh, we use magic to power our toasters and our cars in the morning." It was more of a, "Everything is made of magic, including the trees and the houses and the bunnies and you and me." Magic was the binding force between all matter, and if you could control the magic, you could control anything and everything.

Of course, that was provided you had the power to do so. That was why magicians of the highest caliber were coveted and sought out. If you could control magic, then you could make things happen, and you had power. It was why corruption was so rampant in Spiegel, his world.

Magic was everywhere, and so, it infused itself into every aspect of human life. You could teleport instead of walk. You could magic food to prepare itself. You could hover in midair, if you wanted to. Instead of cars with wheels that rolled on the ground, there were circular seats, like in a Disney Teacup ride (Alfred loved Disney; he always tried to go at least once every two years), floating a foot above the ground that zoomed you anywhere you wanted to go (because teleporting was "gosh darn tiring" for long distances, and some people were not as good in magic as others. At least this way, you made sure everyone arrived in one piece, in one place).

If you wanted a more private route, you could take one of the kayak-shaped vehicles, equipped with hovering dragonfly wings. Instead of planes, there were enormous carriages drawn by dragons, two to a car. One flew slightly above, and the other slightly below, with both trained to travel at the same speed and distance apart from each other to pull the cumbersome cart along.

Yes, there were dragons. (Here, Arthur would get particularly enthusiastic, and Alfred could only assume that this was a favorite topic of his. Perhaps he had one of his own?) Fire-breathing ones, water ones, stocky ones, small ones… Ones made of gold, ones made of wood, anything imaginable. Sometimes people would go out of their way to see if they could make their own dragon (which never really worked; they usually ended up with a destroyed house for one reason or another). There were also unicorns and faeries. Centaurs had their own government, and the most popular pet were cats because they were excellent conversationalists.

(Arthur had even summoned a mint bunny for Alfred in his world, although thankfully it dissipated back onto Arthur's side of the mirror before the ball of green fluff managed to flap and hop its way out of the room on fluffy wings.)

With the proper knowledge and training, you could do almost anything with magic. Of course, school was a big deal and one of the first spells everyone learned was how to **not** perform magic and how to cancel another's spell out.

Spells were guided by words. As Arthur had said when the two had first met, words expressed the will of the magician and told the magic what he (or she) wanted it to do. It was just the best way to communicate with it. Long ago, it was encouraged to direct magic with your thoughts, but that had fallen out of practice because of too many accidental spells. ("For example," Arthur had said, "thinking, 'Stupid boss. I hope he gets strangled by his tie in the morning!' behind his back would only result in a very unpleasant for said boss the next day.") Today, only children control magic this way. While magic weren't volatile, thoughts were.

Of course, because of this, it was impossible for magicians to lie. Doing so outright would cause a magician to lose his credibility, and the magic would simply refuse to obey. Of course, magic had a way of "knowing" when you did something and why, so it was fairly lax on children and such. In general, though, it was just a good idea to never fib.

Sometimes, kids would play games with the magic. One of the most common was that of word play, where what you said appeared as an illusion, and if you could twist the words around just so, you would destroy the opponent's illusion and create one of your own. The last one standing wins. Arthur wasn't sure if there were other rules involved, though; it had been a while since he'd last played it.

Otherwise, though, judging from what Alfred had told him about his world, their worlds weren't all that different. There was school, there were shops, and there were nations and government and other such mundane matters. There were still family bonds, friendship, and, on the other side of the spectrum, teasing, bullying, and hurting others. Those still existed regardless. Humans will be humans, no matter what world they are in, it seems (whatever that meant).

Alfred never did understand what the magician was trying to convey in the last statement, but he didn't like the tone the older man had adopted, nor the distant look in his eyes, when he'd said it.

Nevertheless, after he wrote down the last line into his journal, he clutched the notebook close to his chest and, as he drifted off to sleep, wondered just what his friend had been so upset about.


	6. A First for Everything

**Chapter 6**

"Arthur! Arthur!" Alfred shouted as he ran up the stairs. "Guess what?"

It really wasn't surprising that the man was already standing in the mirror by the time Alfred had skid to a halt in front of it. The mansion practically echoed with the exuberant boy's yells. "Yes, Alfred? What is it?" the elder said with seemingly infinite patience.

"It's my birthday today!"

However, rather than the "Congratulations!" Alfred had expected (even Matthew had whispered one to him in the morning), Arthur only stared back. One eyebrow was raised at an angle that indicated "Confused." While the man was never one to jump for joy, this utter lack of excitement was unexpected.

"Birthday?" Alfred prompted, feeling only slightly guilty that he was practically fishing for a response, "The anniversary from when I was born?"

Arthur clicked his tongue. "I know that, you dolt. That's what the word implies. What I'm wondering is why you are telling me this. Is it something special in your culture?"

"You mean it's not for you?" Alfred was horrified. He couldn't imagine not celebrating birthdays, not even for one year.

The magician shook his head. "I … suppose it is. I just personally never placed any importance on it. Millions are born everyday. You're just one of those millions."

"But it's the day where you're **special**! The one day other than Christmas where you get gifts, and the **only **time in the year you get a party all for yourself!" Later that day, his mother was going to throw a party for him and his brother. Matthew had a few friends invited over, but Alfred was content to have his side of the cake to himself. Their father had already sent cards from overseas too, and Alfred had put them on his bedroom dresser so he could wake up and see it immediately every day. It wasn't often he got communication from his father. From what he understood, being a marine was tough and really busy, but his dad was a hero, and so Alfred didn't really mind that he was always gone. Rather, he was proud of him.

Still, his birthday was the only time he got letters addressed to him from his dad.

"I've never celebrated it in my life," stated Arthur. From what Alfred could see of his expression – for the other was turning his face away – he had a perfect poker face going. "I apologize for hurting you, though. It was thoughtless of me. I should have known it was important to you because you were so excited."

"No!" Alfred shouted, cutting in before the man could start one of his apologizing rants. He winced and lowered his voice. "No, it's not your fault at all. I … you probably don't have it where you come from, maybe." Although he couldn't imagine how…

"Regardless, a congratulations is in order." A smile was back on Arthur's face, but the birthday boy couldn't help but feel like it was pasted there.

An awkward silence flowed between them. The sun was still up high, so it was still early, too early for the party. Just as he was about to get up and pace a little, to work off the nervous energy, an idea struck him. "Hey, you haven't done magic in a while, right?"

The magician narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "'We,' or have you not been listening to a word I said these past few months? It's your words that are commanding the magic-"

"Yeah, yeah," interrupted Alfred, waving his hand before paused, realizing he had picked up the other's habit. "I mean, let's do something!"

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

Arthur hummed. "So, you say you get presents on your birthday, right? I could make you something, although you'd have to state what you want. Not anything too big, though."

Alfred shook his head. "No. Instead, I was wondering… If I had to say something to get something to appear in my world, does that mean you have to say something to make it appear in yours?"

"Of course." Arthur didn't seem to be following the boy's train of thought, though, judging from the furrow in his eyebrows.

"Shucks, it can't be a surprise then? Oh well. Let's do it." Already, Alfred had put both his hands on the mirror. "You'll have to repeat after me, exactly as I say it. And I'll be watching, because I'm right here! I'll make sure you say it right."

The man hastened to place his palms over Alfred's. The latter fought not to snicker. He looked so curious. Did he look like that when he stared at a gift box, not knowing what was inside?

"Ready?"

Arthur nodded.

"I wish…" Alfred started.

"I wish…"

He took a deep breath. "…for a big slice of birthday cake."

"…for … a big slice … of birthday cake?"

Despite the mangling of the sentence and the obvious lilt of uncertainty at the statement, it seems like that was enough "will" to command the magic, because this time, it was on Arthur's end that exploded into a burst of wind and light. There, sitting next to the man, was a chunk of birthday cake – yellow, double-layered and with white cream on top. There was a single strawberry slice, and the edges were whipped into a curly pattern. It was the kind his mother always made for the twins' birthdays.

Arthur just sat there, staring at the piece as though it were an alien. After a moment, Alfred discovered the problem. "Oh crap, I forgot to think up a fork for you!"

The other startled, looking wide-eyed back at Alfred before making a weird half-choked noise at the back of his throat. It soon erupted into a gale of gut-wrenching laughter, harder than anything Alfred had ever seen Arthur laugh. His eyes were squinted shut so tightly the boy could see tears.

"What? It's not that funny!"

Arthur shook his head. When he'd calmed down enough to talk, he said, "No, it's not that. I've … never seen quite like this. I take it it's delicious?"

"The best. It's my mom's special recipe, if I got it right."

"I'll hold you to that claim."

A pause.

"Well? Try it!"

Arthur "hmph"ed. "I'd rather you not see the unseemly sight of me digging into food with my fingers. I will try it in a little while. Before that, let's do another spell."

It was rare for him to suggest anything. Usually, when Alfred begged for a spell, he would ignore him or say that he wasn't in the mood for it. "Why?" This time, it was Alfred's turn to be suspicious.

"Just do it." The man's hands were already flat against the mirror. Skeptical, but trusting, Alfred followed suit. Arthur then leaned his face close to the mirror and, automatically, Alfred copied him. His ears caught the other's whisper. "This is in return for your gift." Then, he leaned back and said, louder, "I wish…" He paused, as though waiting for Alfred to repeat what he'd said.

He did.

"…for a gift only Arthur knows about."

"…for a- Hey, that's unfair!"

The magician clicked his tongue. "Come, it's a promise. Say it?"

The birthday boy huffed, but he repeated the entire phrase obediently. A _bang_ and _whoosh_ later, there was a small box by his feet. It was rather unassuming in size – only slightly larger than Alfred's palm – and utterly devoid of designs, but that was really like Arthur, who had absolutely no taste when it came to decoration. It was probably better that the outside was plain; otherwise, it would probably be some jarring combination of pink and orange, probably. With polka dots.

"Thank you," said Arthur, who had withdrawn his hands and was picking up the cake, inspecting it. "I promise I will eat this by the next time you come."

Alfred chuckled. "Then it'd be a day old and all stale! No need to thank me. I should be the one thanking you." He weighed the box in his hand. It was a bit dense. "I wonder what's inside?"

"Why don't you open it at your party and find out?"

Party? "Shoot, the party!" The sun was setting, and he was probably really late. "Sorry, I gotta go!" With box in hand, Alfred rushed out the room.

A moment later, though, and he was back, panting and heaving.

"One … last question," he choked out.

"You should get going soon."

"When's your birthday?"

Arthur stiffened visibly, but by the time Alfred lifted his head, he looked as he always did. "Despite all the similarities between our worlds," he said glibly, "I doubt even our calendar systems match. I don't think it's possible for me to translate my birthday over to you."

The boy visibly wilted, but soon after, he perked up again. "That's OK! You can celebrate it with me! From now on, your birthday is my birthday, and we'll have a party of our own together!" He paused, in thought. "Oh, but you'll have to share with Mattie too… Don't worry, though. He's really nice, and he's good with sharing. He lets me ride his bike and all. Well, I really gotta go now! See you tomorrow, Arthur!"

And with that, the miniature hurricane of a person departed, leaving only a shell-shocked man who existed only as a reflection in this world behind.

When Alfred returned home, he was immediately pounced upon by his brother. He was slightly berated, but Matthew was too excited to really care, and soon broke away to rejoin his friends. Alfred greeted them, mingled for a bit, but his mind was always on the box Arthur had given him.

Finally, after ten, when everything was over, Alfred huddled in his bed with the box. He wondered what was inside; it weighed about as much as a small pebble, and wasn't much larger than that, but he knew the magician wouldn't just give him a rock. No, Arthur was better than that.

Slowly, hands heavy with anticipation, he cracked open the lid.

In the box was a stone. To be precise, a very shiny stone, of the 'crystal' type. It was small, like a button, and threaded through the top was a simple brown leather strap. Alfred hesitatingly picked it up by the string. Boys didn't wear jewelry, and Arthur should've known that. This was an awfully weird gift.

He inspected it closer. The crystal was light blue in color and sparkled as he looked at it from different angles. He wished he had something other than flashlight light to go by.

He picked up the box and tried to see if there was anything else. A piece of paper fluttered out. In a curly loopy handwriting, it said, "This was given to me when I was a child. I hope you treasure it too."

A short burst of laughter broke out of Alfred's throat, but it was only half-hearted. "I guess the mirror translates writing, too," he muttered as he undid the strap and fastened it around his neck. When Matthew saw the necklace and pendant the next day, he asked where he got it from, but Alfred only said that he used his savings to buy himself a birthday present.

He wore the gift every day since.


	7. A Glimpse

This is based off the school ages in my district; as I understand, the boundary between elementary and middle school varies from place to place. And then there's some places that don't even have a middle school.

Whee for more fluff!

Thank you for all who reviewed! And please do it some more! XD

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"Something good happened today," were the first words out of Arthur's mouth when he caught sight of the ear-splitting grin stretched across Alfred's face.

"You're getting good at this."

"You're not making it hard." The man shifted, laying the book he'd been reading to the side. It was the same book, Alfred noticed, or at least, it had the same cover pattern as the one he'd been reading for the past year.

"Wow, either you're a really slow reader or that book's really good…" murmured Alfred.

Arthur didn't seem to pick up the words, though, because he said next, "So? I don't believe it's your birthday again, nor is it that Christmas holiday you had mentioned last time. What has put you in good spirits today?"

Alfred rocked on the balls of his feet, not even trying to keep still. "Well, I'm twelve now…"

"Yes."

"…and at twelve, you go into middle school!"

This got a response. Unlike the last two or three times, the man reacted immediately, without waiting for an explanation. "So you've graduated from elementary? That's great!" In fact, he seemed to be even more excited than the newly-graduated himself. "What's next … that 'high school' you were talking about?"

"Wow, good memory!" Alfred exclaimed, overjoyed that the other did, in fact, listen and hadn't tuned him out. "Yep, high school's next. Then's college and after that… well, I'll decide in college."

"Hmm," hummed Arthur, "when's the age for a legal adult in your world?"

"Huh? Oh, um, eighteen, but I think it's different everywhere."

"What an odd thing to differ on… So you still have a way to go. I assume middle and high school are just a transition then?"

"Transition?"

"Into adulthood."

Alfred frowned. "That's a weird way to put it, but I guess so. High school goes until you're eighteen, after all."

"Well, congratulations on ascending to the next step, then."

Sometimes Alfred wished there was no mirror between them. If there wasn't, then Arthur might be able to reach forward and hug him instead of just giving him the words. Alfred had always been a more physical person, so it bothered him every now and then that he couldn't actually touch his friend. "What about you?" he asked, in an attempt to shake free the slight ache in his chest. "You're probably in college or something."

The magician stilled, as he often did when Alfred asked his questions, but in the end he replied rather than dodge the question. "You forget we're from different worlds. There is no 'college' here, nor are there middle or high schools."

"Oh, then… What do you have?"

"There is a magic academy, but it is one institution for all ages. There's no separation. One graduates upon reaching adulthood."

"Well, you're an adult, so you've definitely graduated by now. Did you pass with flying colors?" That seemed to be the type of man Arthur was.

"Ah," the magician shuffled uncomfortably, "I … I actually did not go, so I don't know how I would have done."

Alfred stared. "What? Why?"

"'Why?'"

"Why didn't you go? That's not like you! You're the one always telling me to concentrate on schoolwork when I come to visit you!" A thought occurred to Alfred. "Did you run away?"

"No!" exclaimed Arthur, clearly horrified at the very prospect.

"Then why?" The boy lowered his voice. "Did the others bully you and chase you away? Or were you too good at magic and the classes were too easy?"

"I…" The other hesitated, very reluctant to continue, "I was home-schooled."

"Oh." Alfred relaxed. "That's not so bad. Any particular reason?"

Arthur's eyes shifted off to one side. "Reasons of one sort or another."

"Like?"

"You're prying." The green eyes snapped back onto Alfred, narrowed in a glare. The boy flinched, but didn't relent.

"Only 'cause you're not telling me. It can't be that bad, can it?"

Arthur continued glaring for a bit, but eventually dropped back, leaning on his hands, with a sigh. "Let's just say 'family reasons' and leave it at that."

"Oh," Alfred said again. He must have stumbled upon something private. No wonder why Arthur was so angry, then. "Sorry."

A slight blush spread over the man's cheeks. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. I should be the one doing so."

"No!" Alfred said without thinking, hurrying to stave off Arthur's characteristic rant. He continued, quieter, "I mean, no, you don't have to. It's OK." He checked his watch. Mattie was probably waiting for him back at home, but him and Mom were probably used to him being really late. He thought about his options for a bit. "I think I can stay for a bit longer."

"What time is it?"

"Five."

"Shouldn't you be home by three, or four at the latest? I recall your brother throwing a fit last time you stayed this late."

"Ah, he's used to it by now."

Arthur shook his head. "You shouldn't keep him waiting. Your family is probably hoping to congratulate you themselves. You should go."

Alfred frowned and stuck his lip out a little, an expression he'd mostly lost the habit of doing, but it crept out in moments of extreme disappointment. "Fine," he said, turning to pick up his backpack. He really had wanted to stay more. "See you tomorrow then?"

"As always."


	8. Magic Mirror

I have to admit, I never expected this story to be this popular. Most of the people who reviewed are on the right track with this story. One person even managed to get it mostly right, but I won't say who =P

Thank you for those who've reviewed!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Another day, another year, and things were still the same. Sure, Alfred was a fourteen now, bit taller, had glasses now, and was smarter (slightly) and stronger (a lot), but he still loved heroes and he still aspired to be a pilot.

And he still showed up every day after school at the mansion first thing after school.

"You know," he said, one day, "I never really noticed until now, but … you're always here."

"You just noticed this after four years? There's a limit to how slow one can be," teased Arthur.

"Shut up," retorted Alfred casually. "I mean, I'd just figured you always happened to be here at the same time, or maybe you could magic any old mirror to do whatever it is you do, but I never asked you, and I figured, hey, now's a good a time as any."

"So…" Arthur started slowly, "You want to know why I'm always here when you come?"

"Mmhmm, that's about right."

"Where to start…" Arthur drew out, looking into the distance. "The mirror itself is a magical artifact that absorbs magic to power itself. I can't use just any to communicate with you."

"Oh, cool! I wonder if this one's special too…" Again, Alfred's eyes traveled over the object he'd come to know very well over the past few years. It was still as shiny as ever; he occasionally brought a spare cloth to polish it and dust it, but really, there was no need. No dust ever settled on it, as though magnetically repelled.

"The one on your side is probably a reflection of this one, existing simply because this one exists."

"Huh?"

"Everything comes in pairs. After all, when you look into a mirror, you see another person, right? Then that person also exists in this world."

"But … there's only one of you, and one of me."

The magician shook his head. "No, there is probably another 'Arthur' in your world somewhere, and I know for a fact that there is an 'Alfred' in my world. You just haven't met my counterpart yet."

"Whoa, there's another me? Where is he? You just said you know him."

"I … do know him, but I don't know where he is. I lost contact with him quite some time ago."

"That's a bummer. You missed out on his awesomeness."

"You don't even know what he's like."

"Well, he's me, right? He can only be so different." Alfred changed the topic. "So, are all mirrors like this? Like, video phones," seeing the other's confused expression, he clarified, "I mean, you can talk to anyone you want and see them? Why were you trying to get to another world?"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "Well, this was my first time using a mirror, so-"

Alfred let out a burst of laughter. "You messed up!"

The magician started turning red. "I … did not! The mirror is working perfectly fine. It just … redirected to a more suitable trajectory."

"Cool, cool. Whatever you say…" Eventually, the teenager calmed himself down enough to continue. "But wait, so everything here's there?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. When we refer to ourselves, when we communicate with other worlds – because you're not the only one out there – we usually refer to ourselves by what you see us through."

"But I thought you said your world's name was… S-Spy-something?"

"Spiegel. That is what we call ourselves, the world's true name. The magic will only listen to you if you know its name."

"I could do it before, though … although, it was because you were here…"

"Yes. It's like how the image of what you wanted to create transferred through our connection across the mirror, the name of the world transfers from me to you."

"So … what?"

"So, to your world, my world's name is technically the 'Mirror World.'" Arthur gestured behind him, and even though Alfred could see nothing but gray, he knew that he was talking about the world that sat just beyond the centimeter-thick surface separating them.

"Huh," muttered Alfred, "if your world has a double of everything from every single world, then it must be really full."

The man chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is. For example, if I created something in your world, then something of the same type appears in this world at approximately the same time. It just works that way."

Alfred didn't really get it, but he just chalked it all up to "it's magic." "But wait, what's that got to do with how you're here all the time?"

Arthur frowned. "It doesn't, not really, but you sidetracked the conversation."

"And you let me, like you always do."

"Caught red-handed, it seems."

"Come on, spill."

With a sigh, Arthur continued. "It's simple, really. The mirror, being magical, lets me know when you are present on the other side, and I come."

"…That's it?"

"Minus some minor details, yes."

It was Alfred's turn to sigh. "Well, that was a huge letdown. I thought it would be like, some sort of connection thing, maybe. Like, you're telepathic or something."

"I'm glad you think so highly of me, but there is no one with that sort of power here."

"Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not complaining. I think it's great that you're always here when I come. I just … it just bothered me for a second."

"Don't apologize for curiosity. It means you wish to learn more. It's a gift."

The teenager snorted. "Yeah, tell that to Mattie. He says I'm nosy."

"Speaking of which, how is he? You haven't spoken of him recently."

"That's 'cause there's nothing to say. He's in a different class this year, though, which is weird. We've always been in the same year until now."

Arthur seemed to sympathize. "You two are rather close, for brothers, so I can imagine."

"Nah, I wouldn't say that. We argue every day and he hates it when I don't walk home with him. He doesn't believe you exist, either."

"But he's perhaps keeping quiet about it from your mother?"

"Now that you mention it… Yeah, probably." He hadn't noticed at all. "Whoa, I need to thank him, or maybe get him a really good gift for Christmas."

"I'm sure he would appreciate anything you buy."

"I wouldn't be. He's pretty picky, the jerk."

The carefree bantered continued for some time between the two of them until the sun's setting alerted Alfred of the passing time and the two bid farewell for another day.


End file.
